


Chaire. . .My Hero

by Eravalefantasy



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed - Odyssey
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Giveaway fic, Tiny bit of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 05:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eravalefantasy/pseuds/Eravalefantasy
Summary: Alexios will leave Kephallonia soon and Diandra still regrets their lost friendship. Will she have a chance to say goodbye? If Phoibe has anything to say about it, then yes.





	Chaire. . .My Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enigmatic_Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigmatic_Soul/gifts).



> A giveaway fic featuring Enigmatic_Soul's OC Diandra.

“Fool.” Diandra cursed discarding yet another broken peonia stem. The basket on the ground filled slowly with the evidence of her frustration. “Who buys a dead vineyard?”  

Markos had asked Diandra to breathe life into his newly acquired property, but no amount of flowers would brighten the near failing vineyard. She loved her work, but disappointment soured the day and the fragrant pink blooms failed to lift Diandra’s mood. “Did you really think Aphrodite would listen to your pleas?”  She shoved an unbroken stem into the vase and sighed. “It’s just as well since he leaves soon.”

“Who’s leaving?” A pair on inquisitive brown eyes peered around the trellis wall and a young girl of twelve years stepped into the alcove. She closed her eyes and inhaled. “These are my favorite.” Opening one eye, the girl smiled. “So, _who_ is leaving?”

“Phoibe, I’m sure you have better things to do than to listen to my private thoughts.”

The girl shrugged. “If they were private you shouldn’t have spoken out loud.” Leaning on the worktable, Phoibe grinned. “Who are you talking about? Maybe I can help?”

“Hush. If Markos finds you hanging around, he’ll put you to work. Go play.”  Phoibe often ran errands for Markos and others, but her idle presence meant she’d completed the last errand Markos had set while he discussed the arrangements with Diandra.  _Find Alexios._  

The possibility of seeing him had slowed her work, but after hours without an arrival, she’d begun to doubt. _You’ve stayed too long_ , she thought, adding to her disappointment.  She’d hoped to say goodbye, but it seemed her hopes had failed as much as her prayers.

They were but children when he arrived on the island. At first, Diandra complied with her father’s request to befriend the young man; being a prominent merchant, he’d been trying to secure Markos’ aid with shipments.   

Alexios proved a quiet boy when they’d met. He took little time to acclimate to Kephallonia, often carrying them both into trouble. Their friendship grew as they aged, as did Diandra’s interest.  Both had been severely punished running off to Mount Ainos when they were eighteen. Alexios had promised to protect and guide her; their goal to see Helios’ chariot usher the night into day. The fantasy of sneaking away with him overshadowed Diandra’s usual sensibilities, but the journey hadn’t turned out as expected.

_Diandra slipped on the fir tree’s trunk; Alexios urging her to use his shoulder to instead.  “You’ve got to climb, Dee!”_

_Tears streamed down her face as fear took hold. Wolves. The howling grew louder, mixed with the slap of so many large paws against the rocks and dirt.  Diandra cried not for herself, but because she knew Alexios would face them alone.  Grabbing a large branch above her, she straddled it, reaching out for him.  “Now you!”_

_Warmth and certainty stared at her. “No. I’ve fought a wolf before.”_

_The arrogance lacing his claim set her on edge, eyes widening in disbelief. “A wolf! One! Not an army! Take my hand!” He was strong, more so than any of the men on the island, but not even the temple guards would dare face a wolf pack alone. She wanted to be brave, and prove her worth, but the howling gave way to deep, guttural growls.  The thundering steps of the pack had diminished; they would strike very soon._

_“You worry too much,” he said with wink.  “I’m a misthios, remember?”_

_“You’re a fool!” She reached even more emphatically.  “A sword and a broken spear don’t make a hero,” she said, nearly slipping from her perch to banish the tears from her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised!”_

_The first wolf broke through the brush, creeping toward him. Diandra tried once more to convince Alexios to climb, but he pulled his sword free of the harness with his right hand and gripped the spear in the other before rolling his shoulders.  “Trust me.”_

_She couldn’t watch him take on the four wolves; the cold grip of terror prevented it. Diandra covered her eyes at first, not wanting to see Alexios mauled by the beasts. And yet in no time, she heard the crack of bone and whimpers through cursing and taunts as if Alexios sought to entertain her before dying. A sudden silence forced her to peek through her fingers._

_Four wolves lay motionless around him, Alexios kneeling near one. His grey tunic had changed color, steeped in a mottled red that also splattered his arms and legs. “You’re bleeding!”_

_He laughed. There was such an arrogance coming from him, it irritated Diandra. “It’s not my blood,” he proclaimed. “That first malaka scratched my leg. It’s nothing. I told you to trust me.”_

_“What if something had happened? I would have been alone. A dead hero does me no good.” Anger took the place of fear and she tried to climb down and slipped, Alexios managing to grab her before Diandra hit the ground.  His touch seared, and the blush on her face only fueled her anger and she pulled away._

_“As you can see, your hero is very much alive.” Even his eyes smiled at her. “I am sorry if I worried you Dee. I can take you home or,” he stopped and looked at the gore. “I should get cleaned up. I’m sure you hadn’t planned on me covered in wolf guts for our little adventure.”_

_She couldn’t stop the laugh from bursting free. No matter how sweet his expression, he reeked of entrails and blood. “I don’t want to go home. Not yet.” She tried to find a polite means to agree with him about his filthy state, but it came out all wrong. “You do smell, but only just a little.”_

_Alexios nodded. “Only just a little?” He threw up his hands, in mock exasperation; his smirk a clear sign of his playfulness “Now the truth comes out,” he said with a wink. “I stink.”_

_“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that bad.”_  
  
He stared back at her with a slight arch of one brow. “Oh really?” She saw the smirk lift into a crooked smile. “Not that bad, you say?” Alexios held out his arms wide. “Give us a kiss.” 

_He teased her. Diandra was sure of it. Alexios didn’t see her as anything more than a friend. He’d voiced his gratitude often. She never treated him poorly, never pointed out he had no family, and most of all, she never used him—like so many others._

_“Bath first!” She tried a stern voice, hoping it hid her nervousness._

_They found a stream easily enough; Diandra promised to stay within sight, but she had no intentions of staring while he bathed. Instead, she gave him her back and picked wildflowers while they talked._

_They’d barely spoken a few words when Alexios called out to her. “Diandra, run! To the coast!”_

_Turning quickly, she noted two men holding Alexios by his arms and another walking toward her. She tried to run, but the man caught her wrist. “Let me go!”_

_To her right, she saw Alexios fighting back. “Let her go! Malakas! Fight me! Leave her alone!”_

_Despite his anger and fierce fight against his captors, the men ignored their pleas. A smaller group approached, calling for Diandra’s release._

_As the group neared, she realized what was happening. Her father had found them._

_“Pater, no! He saved me, you can’t hurt Alexios!”_

_It took a fair amount of explaining, but finally Diandra’s father relented. Alexios wasn’t in trouble, not truly. The problem was neither had shared their destination. Her father and Markos had assumed the worst. When the wolf carcasses were found, Diandra’s father allowed his fears to send the men ahead._

_The punishment for Diandra separated her from Alexios and his friendship._

***

The memory ended at the sight of Alexios and Marcos crossing the grounds toward the stable.  He stood far taller than she recalled, and his hair hung beneath his shoulders. He wore the braids of someone who cared little for the style of the soldiers, setting him apart by his obvious attention to his appearance. Even his skin had bronzed from his work, toning more than just his strong and well-muscled body. Diandra hugged the vase of peonias closer, hoping to obscure her face.

Phiobe pushed aside the blooms. “Alexios? Is that who you meant? I can talk to him! Wait right here!”  Reaching out to stop the young girl, Diandra nearly dropped the vase in her efforts , but decided it better to slip away unnoticed. 

 _You need to leave before Phoibe calls him over_ , she thought _, forced conversation and awkward pauses are not what I want._ Leaving the vase on the workbench, she hurried down the sloping path back to the market, hoping Phoibe would forget.

Her steps slowed when she was clear of the vineyard, thoughts returning to Alexios. He had smiled at her whenever they saw one another, but since that day, they had not spoken. When her father died, she remembered seeing Alexios, and learned he’d helped clear the shop with Markos, but even then no words were ever exchanged.

 _It hardly matters_ , she thought, taking the road toward home, _he’s leaving. Alexios has no reason to think on me._

l-l-l

The sun set at its leisure on Kephallonia, and despite a long list of jobs before he could depart, Alexios rested on the rooftop of the place he’d called home for years.  His eagle companion, Ikaros shifted on his perch, eager to travel as much as Alexios.  “Not hungry, my friend?”  Pointing at the bowl of raw meat, Ikaros tilted his head. The bird rarely made a noise; except for the occasional warning or hiss, Ikaros often just stared at Alexios until getting his way.  “All right, all right—go. But stay away from the farms and be back before dark!”

Smiling at his cleverness, Alexios closed his eyes, knowing Ikaros more than capable of hunting for his dinner without help or thievery. They’d miss the island, but the idea of what waited for them? It was time.  He’d settled on the bedroll, allowing the sounds of the waning day wash over him.  Cicadas chirped in long strings until their song slowed and ended on a single held tone slowing fading away only to begin again.  The occasional pass of a fly overhead cut through the din, but it was a thicker noise; dry brush crushed underfoot and rocks moved with footsteps that caught Alexios’ attention.  His daggers within reach, a quick grab slid the sheath closer.

 _It’s not those malakas from the port,_ he thought.  _The Cyclops is dead; not even his men would be that stupid to return._ Alexios focused on the sound as the ladder creaked only slightly. Only one other would dare to arrive and try to surprise him. He smiled and mustered a stern expression, bellowing the name of the intruder while trying to keep from laughing. “Phoibe!”

The quieted curse that fell from the young girl nearly broke his feigned seriousness. “You need to work on your stealth,” he said sitting up. “Your footsteps are as loud as a pig at feeding.”

“Are not! You take that back.”  Phoibe’s dark hair appeared first, before her eyes peeked over the roof ledge. “If you’re mean to me, I won’t tell you my secret.”

“Fine.  A piglet then.” He grinned and winked, dodging a playful swipe. “And what will this secret of yours cost me?”  

“It’s a favor, so nothing.”  She reached for a pillow and sat down, a mischievous grin stretched across her face. Her eyes scanned the rooftop, as if to guarantee none would overhear her message. “Someone likes you.”

Alexios wasn’t entirely surprised she carried gossip; Phoibe often delivered news that she caught in conversation now and then.  She’d been upset to learn he was leaving, and likely wanted to convince him to stay.  Playing along made the most sense. “And just who is this _someone_?”

“Well, she didn’t ask me to tell you, but if you guess, then there’s no problem—right?”

Playing a guessing game was sure to get him into trouble; he’d need to pull as much information as possible before sharing anything. He had more than a few encounters over the years. _Nothing I want to get into with Phoibe, so discretion is key._  “All right. I’ll need clues. You said this person was a woman, so we can eliminate the men on the island, yes?”

Phoibe nodded, but said nothing. When Alexios gestured toward himself repeatedly coaxing her to continue, her eyes widened. “Oh! You want more?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, more would be good. A _name_ would be better.”

Slicing her hand through the air, Phoibe refused. “No. Not yet. She likes flowers —pink ones, like me. ” She scratched her temple as if it revealed more information to her.

He stood and wandered toward the ledge, crossing his arms as he sat. “Not helping.”

“You know her. You were friends, like us or something like that. At least that’s all Markos would say. He told me to forget it, but she _was_ at the vineyard today.”

He swallowed the sigh in his chest. _Dee. Diandra_. He’d seen her working on flower arrangements.  

They hadn’t spoken in five or six years. It hadn’t been his choice to end their friendship; even then he’d wanted to impress her and promising to guide Diandra to the top of Mount Ainos had seemed the perfect opportunity. But everything had gone wrong.   A few wolves had been nothing compared to her father’s fury. At eighteen, he feared the promised wrath of the gods even though Alexios had done nothing wrong. He’d wanted to prove to her how much he wanted her company, but Markos had made him swear he would never go near her after they had returned.  

“Did I say something?”  Phoibe’s playfulness had vanished, a frown taking its place.

“No, a memory, nothing more. You spoke with Diandra?”

 Phoibe nodded. “You should talk to her you know. She even prayed to Aphrodite; I heard her say so. At least say goodbye, Alexios.”

He agreed in a vague response, before sending Phoibe on her way. _No harm in goodbye, right?_

l-l-l

Even in the early morning sun, the white cliffs caught the light just right at Diandra’s favorite spot; the beach rarely saw anything more dangerous than a few wandering crabs in the pale sands. The scent of the sea filled her every breath, and she closed her eyes, letting the rays of the sun warm her.

A man called out to her, his rich baritone carried a playfulness she’d remembered from years ago. “You’re not going to jump are you?” 

 

 _Alexios_. _Phoibe, what have you done?_ Diandra’s heart pounded in her chest, but she pulled every bit of calm from within and tried to answer him without any tremor in her voice. “Is that how you say hello after ignoring me for years?” She shifted to her feet, courage growing as she stood.

“You make a fair point. “ He stepped closer, leaning toward her. His eyes held hers and with a hint of a wink, he spoke gently. “Hello Dee.”

She’d dreamed of this moment and what she wanted to hear from him, but she was very much awake and unsettled. Stammering out her hello, Diandra suddenly couldn’t speak. _Say something_ , she thought. She tried to ask a question but managed to croak out a few words. “I . . .how?” She sighed. “Never mind.”

 Embarrassment turned her away, searching for the fastest escape route. In her haste, she lost awareness of the looming edge of the cliffside. It happened without warning. Her sandal slipped on the curved edge, displacing rocks and the loose soil under her feet; eyes widened as her balance faltered. The scream for help caught in her throat as visions of her tumbling over the edge into the rocks below prevented anything more than a gasp and a frantic reach for him before she fell back.

“No!” His shout rang out; Alexios rushed toward her, his voice raised in alarm. “Dee!”

The pain in her arm and shoulder sharpened her awareness.  She hung dangerously off the cliff, but the steeled grip on her wrist refused to relent and let her go. Tears clouded her vision, the pain excruciating. She heard kind words and promises and it took another moment to realize Alexios had risked his life to save hers. He’d caught her wrist nearly sending him off the cliff face with her. _How are we both still alive? The rumors must be true. He is favored by Zeus._

“I know it hurts.” Alexios lifted her with little effort; his free hand reached under her other arm to pull her safely to land once more. “Almost there.”

The gentleness in his words matched the bright warmth from his eyes. With little effort, he stood cradling Diandra’s body in his arms. Alexios followed the footpath toward the road. She whispered her gratitude before sucking in a breath.

“Phobos, my horse, will carry you to the doctor. It’s my fault, I injured your shoulder.”

She stared at him, disbelieving. “Your . .  .fault? But. . .but, you saved me.”

He nodded. “What kind of a hero would I be to you if I’d let you fall?”

“Still playing hero,” she’d not meant it as it fell from her lips and quickly countered. “No need for games, Alexios. I am grateful for the rescue and the hero who risked his life.”

Neither spoke until Alexios reached the dirt road, and sharp whistle brought a spotted horse to their position. “Phobos? He’s beautiful,” she said, as Alexios lifted her to the saddle. Diandra cried out; the stabbing pains in her shoulder flaring once more. “I. . .I can’t. Just leave me, you have better things to do.” She slumped forward, knowing she’d slip from the horse without help.

 “No. I am not leaving you. I can help but will have to hold you.”

She shook her head; this was not how she envisioned their goodbye. “I can walk.”

Diandra wasn’t quite prepared for his reaction. “If ever there was a time for you to swallow your stubborn pride and let me help you.”

“What?” She couldn’t believe he’d insulted her under the guise of aiding her. “My stubborn pride? You stopped talking to me for years! Who’s the stubborn one here?”

He stepped closer, wagging his finger. “Don’t make me hoist you over my shoulder and carry you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she shot back, but something told her Alexios would have no problem carrying her like a grain sack through the town. Her discomfort won out. “Then take me to the doctor’s house.”

The ride from the coast to town dragged on in aggravated silence, the occasional wince of pain loosening Alexios’ hold now and then with a quickly muttered apology.

Frustrations mounted as the braziers of the town glowed brighter as they approached. “Tell me one thing,” she started, knowing he’d likely not tell the truth. “Was it so easy for you to walk away from me? Was it all an act?”

“No. I did what I was told,” he said, offering no other explanation. His voice softened.  “I cared for you, Dee. Still do.”

“You lie.”

The long drawn out sigh from him didn’t fit. He seemed strangely saddened. “What? You think I wanted to stay away? Your father made it very clear; he’d send you to Athens if I tried to speak to you. Markos said it was better to be respectful and not anger him.” Nearing the bend in the road, they doctor’s house came into view. “The torches are lit, the doctor is still awake.” Alexios spoke gently to his horse, stopping near the front.

“I didn’t know. I thought I had,” she stopped, not wanting to admit she’d borne the blame for so long. “It doesn’t matter. You could have tried.”

“As you say. I remember it differently.”

Her anger flared again, and even after he helped her from the saddle Diandra turned on him. “A real friend wouldn’t have walked away. You say you care for me? You have no idea what it was like. None! Just go. Take off on your adventure, leave me in peace.” She’d wanted him to feel the hurt she’d carried, despite knowing the truth of it.

“Fine. I’m leaving.” He turned away, shaking his head.

“Wait!” She tried to call after him, but Alexios strode out of the house without turning back. “I’m sorry!”

The following morning, Diandra woke in her bed, thoughts still heavy on the harsh words exchanged. The doctor’s assistant had helped her return home with the strict understanding she would need assistance for a few days.

“He’s probably left. Wonderful.” She continued her aggravated self-admonishments, struggling to dress. Thirst had driven her from rest and slow steps carried her down the stairs to the hearth.  “How I’m going to pull the bucket with only one arm is a mystery. Maybe Cleo is still home?” She neared the landing thinking on the young merchant who lived farther down the road. “Alexios was right. Your stubbornness will be your undoing.”

She heard the cough before seeing the guest standing near the roaring hearth. Lit and thriving, she knew Alexios had arrived to help. “Your hearth is lit and I’ve filled the water pitchers and the basin. I’m not much of a cook, but what I can is edible.”

Her expression soured despite the gratitude. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No. That’s true. I wanted to.”

She apologized. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was angry and embarrassed. I owe you my life. No matter what happened between us, I never stopped wanting to be your friend.”

He smiled. “No, you were right. I walked away. I thought I was doing what was right. I am sorry.” His eyes flicked toward the door. “I am leaving tomorrow but I wanted to see you.”

“Oh? Leaving already? You will return to Kephallonia, right?” Moving closer to him, she held his eyes while hoping she wouldn’t tear.

“I can’t promise I will return.”

She recognized the sadness in his voice, and even though Diandra knew it would mean little to him, she rested her hand on his chest. “Then may the Gods see you safe on your journey. If the Fates decree you should return, know I will be waiting.”

“No, the Fates do not act on whims. With your consent, this I do for me—and for you.”

Diandra nodded, unsure what Alexios planned, but when he shifted even closer to her and his thumb grazed her chin, she guessed what might follow, but whispered the question. “What will you do?”

“Something I should have done years ago.”

She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, remembering to give thanks to Aphrodite for the gift, no matter how fleeting.

**Author's Note:**

> Chaire: used as a greeting in both hello and goodbye  
> Misthios: a mercenary  
> Malaka: slang with more than a few meanings (anywhere from idiot to asshole, you get the idea)


End file.
